


Under Advisement

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:31:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Bumlets visits his sister, for dinner and friendly advice.





	Under Advisement

**Author's Note:**

> There isn’t a lot of “Newsies Speak” in this one, because I don’t see Bumlets as speaking English with his family members, so the speech patterns that the newsboys fall into with each other wouldn’t hold much relevance here.

“Where did you find these beans?” Isabel asked her brother. “An hour of boiling, three hours to soak, and these wicked things are still hard as rocks. Are you sure didn’t bring me stones?”

“One of the other boys – Swifty, they call him – knew where I could get them at a discount. Sort of.” Bumlets avoided Isabel’s steady gaze and focused on the baby in his arms, wiping away the trail of drool from his mouth. The baby’s name was Manuel, the same as Bumlets and Bumlets’ father. This made him the smallest in a long line of Manuels, and perhaps the most sensible (he hadn’t fled the city to seek his fortune in the gold mines out west only to get himself killed, and he didn’t get tricked into bad deals or dream of being a dancer. He just babbled, slept, and kept out of trouble, the way that babies were supposed to.)

“You are letting boys with stupid names talk you into buying stones for your poor sister to cook.”

“They aren’t stones,” Bumlets insisted. He also hadn’t paid for them, but he decided not to mention that.

“Well, they also aren’t beans,” Isabel said, then she sighed, and smiled. “Or, if they are, they are older than the men who founded this country. George broke his teeth on these beans and then left them for us to eat.”

“George Washington?” asked Bumlets. He’d been taking English classes at night, and was being inundated with more of America’s glorious history than he knew what to do with, by a teacher who believed that learning not to think like a foreigner was more important than learning how to ask for directions and buy a sack of apples. He had never yet celebrated Thanksgiving in his life, but he could name each and every food that was meant to be served in the feast.

“They can all be Georges for all I care,” said Isabel with a derisive snort. “I’ll leave your beans to sit over night, and find something else for your dinner after I feed Little Mannie.” She leaned over to take her son. Bumlets’ arms felt suddenly cool and light without anything to hold, so he stood up and went over to stir the beans, unwilling to accept just yet that they couldn’t be salvaged.

Little Mannie was Isabel’s first child, but she was well practiced in caring for him, having honed her skills on Bumlets himself. The story was often told in the family - up until Bumlets was born, his oldest sister, Maria, had taken charge of each new sibling as they came. The idea of Isabel, at only six, taking on a baby had been ridiculous, especially when Maria was eleven and so very capable, but little Isabel had been undaunted. She’d traded Maria her four prettiest hair ribbons for the promise that the swelling in Mama’s belly could be hers to look after once it got out, then spent years doing everything in her power to make sure that “her” baby was the cleanest and best cared for out of everyone in their household.

“What do they feed you at the lodging house?”

“Last night we had peas and ham.” Bumlets poked at the beans, but they just rolled around uselessly in the water. He wished they would just soften and stop making a fool out of him.

Isabel didn’t answer right away. She had Little Mannie at her breast, and she was humming under her breath. She’d gained weight since becoming a mother, and her thick black hair was often messy. “I don’t know why you stay there,” Isabel said at last. “You have to sell ten papers each day just to pay for your bed, isn’t that so?”

“Are you offering me a place to stay?” Bumlets teased. He didn’t really want to stay with Isabel and her husband. Being with Isabel for too long always made him feel smaller than he was, even though he was nearly sixteen and towered a full three inches above her. Mama’s house was equally unappealing, as it was loud, and everyone slept four or five to a bed. Besides, Mama was so proud of him now that he’d struck out on his own and could bring her money.

“You are tricking the others into thinking you are an adult now, but I’ve seen the newsies. They run everywhere they go, and play stickball in the streets. Do you like their games, Mannie?”

“I have my own games.” Bumlets spoke through his teeth, annoyed at how much Isabel knew about everything. “I’m taking care of myself. Nobody has to take care of me now. I have a dime to give you, another for Maria, fifty cents for Mama, and…”

Isabel quieted him with a hand on his shoulder. “And a bag of beans. I know. Are you still working on your dance steps at night?”

“Yes. Every night.” For hours. Even when his feet hurt. Bumlets had worn through more pairs of shoes than he could count.

“Dolores told me that Angel was following you around last time you were at the dance hall. I want you to stay away from him.”

Dolores was Bumlets’ favorite out of his younger sisters, and Angel was trouble. Bumlets knew this because he hadn’t been staying away from him, and was already well aware of the consequences.

“I’ll be careful,” Bumlets promised.

“If he talks about jobs and connections…”

“He’s lying. I know.” Bumlets had to bite his lip to keep from telling Isabel where that knowledge came from. It would only make her think he couldn’t handle himself. “I wouldn’t even go to that dance hall these days if I didn’t need to keep an eye on Dolores.”

“She said the same thing about you,” Isabel told him. “If I should get grey hairs, I know exactly which brother and sister will be at fault.”


End file.
